


Broken

by justakidfromhellskitchen



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-17 21:41:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9347489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justakidfromhellskitchen/pseuds/justakidfromhellskitchen
Summary: In which Newt Scamander finds that he has broken Percival Graves' Foe Glass and can't repair it.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DeathValleyQueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathValleyQueen/gifts).



> I wrote this as a gift to DeathValleyQueen when her menorah broke not too long ago. So I wrote about Newt Scamander doing the same. Enjoy. 
> 
> Thank you so, so much to my beta @kcsplace on Tumblr. They have been wonderful and supportive and highly recommended. Cheers! <3

There are two fundamental truths about Newt Scamander: That he is a clumsy person, and that he cares more about his creatures than he does about possessions. 

The Repairing Spell is the first he learns to master at school when a smuggled creature gets loose from under his bed. Newt still remembers it almost too clearly.

The baby Erumpent wreaked havoc on the dorm room and broke Oliver Waterstone’s handmade candelabra which was a gift to him by his Muggle grandmother. To this day, Newt still hears Oliver’s desperate cries to figure out why on earth Newt would ever keep an illegal baby Erumpent under his bed and if Newt did, in fact, do anything that wasn’t completely useless.

Newt didn’t sleep that night. He sat by the dying embers of the Hufflepuff common room, and with his tongue poking out in concentration, he ripped parchments and attempted to repair them over and over again. By dawn, he had a stack of crisp parchments, and Oliver’s candelabra was back in one piece. 

So that Newt has broken Graves’ irreplaceable Foe Glass is not actually a surprise; that he has violated Graves’ hospitality is even sickening. But he is not used to not being able to fix his mistake, his recklessness.

It happens without much noise or fanfare. It’s the Niffler, again, who has gotten loose in Graves’ house -- mansion? It must be a mansion given its size, now that Newt thinks about it -- which is a shrine of shiny objects. In his pursuit of the thieving beast, Newt runs after it into Graves’ study. The Niffler starts to stuff anything and everything from glinting pen caps to Sneakoscopes in its bottomless pouch. Newt enters in pursuit, aiming his wand at the slippery creature. The Niffler ducks out of the way, and Newt’s spell goes awry, hitting the Foe Glass square in the middle of it.

Newt skids to a halt, out of breath and horrified. It doesn’t shatter but a spiderweb of cracks appear all along its fragile surface. The spellwork behind the glass breaks, then, and the opaque surface of the Foe Glass turns into an ordinary mirror.

It’s simple as that. One minute the glass is intact; the next minute, it’s not.

He already knows it’s no use when he flicks his wand half-heartedly and squeaks out, “Reparo!” Intuitively, Newt knows it will take more than just a wave of a wand and a simple mending charm to restore something so magically magnificent. 

Heaving a heavy sigh, Newt sets to repairing the rest of Graves’ house with surgical precision and puts the Niffler back in his case without a single word to it. The Niffler goes without fuss, its head drooping as if he knows how much trouble it’s really caused. Newt avoids the study until the very last possible moment. Confronting the broken Foe Glass is not unlike wedging a sharp piece of glass in his own chest. He stares at it, desperately, and wonders if there are any Time Turners in America. Surely, it would be MACUSA who would guard them? 

But the thought is one last childish attempt to stay on Graves’ good side. There is no way he can hope to stay in New York City for more research if he breaks even more laws.

There is a noise from downstairs. Graves must be home from work, much earlier than expected. Newt’s heart picks up speed, thundering against his narrow chest. He has had every intention to leave before Graves getting home, but now--

“Newt?” Graves’ voice carries up as he climbs the stairs and roots Newt to the spot.

_ Go _ , Newt tells himself.  _ Leave now. Before he sees. _ But Newt’s legs are frozen in place as if there’s a binding curse on them. 

The door to the study creaks open a minute later, and Newt faces Graves with his heart beating in his throat. One side of Graves’ mouth has turned up in a promise of a smile, but it fades as his eyes travel from Newt to the damaged Foe Glass behind him.

“What happened?” Graves sweeps into the room, but to Newt’s utter surprise, he makes toward Newt instead of the glass. “Are you alright? Did someone hurt you?”

Newt can’t look him in the eyes anymore. His gaze ducks out from underneath the weight of Graves’ concern. “Fine, I’m fine… Your--your glass … my fault… Niffler…not fast enough”

The shock of Graves’ touch on his own jaw startles Newt back. He nearly trips over his case.

“Newt,” Graves says, his voice ringing out with authority. His hands have already taken care to steady Newt. “Look at me.”

Newt does, his breath quickening in anticipation of the hurt and disgust he might find on Graves’ face.

“Are you planning to go somewhere?” Graves first eyes Newt’s case on the plush carpet, raking his gaze at the scarf around Newt’s neck suspiciously before an intense stare pins Newt to the spot. 

_ Merlin’s beard _ , Newt thinks, feeling small.

“N-no,” Newt starts and then when Graves’ eyes narrow, he changes direction. Graves, he knows, does not like lies. “Yes. I mean … I don’t know.” 

“What happened?” Graves asks again, but this time his tone is more coaxing and patient. Newt recognizes it to be the product of years of interrogating suspects.

Newt has never been a particularly good criminal. He confesses to his crime: the Niffler, the spell, his intention to look for another Foe Glass. He deflates when his words run out, and tears sting his eyes.

Silence nudges itself between them.

“Newt,” Graves says, his deep voice gravelly with some unrecognizable emotion. “You were going to leave without telling me? Over a broken Foe Glass?”

“Of course, I had to look for a replacement… I know, I’m careless about others people’ things. I know. Reckless and useless and this was your favorite thing--”

But Graves is swallowing Newt’s frustrations with a kiss. His lips mash gracelessly against Newt’s, softening as he cradles Newt’s head and draws him closer to himself in an embrace. An involuntary shudder quakes all of Newt from within and something warm spreads through his chest. Newt kisses back, awkwardly, his fingers clutching at Graves’ lapels.

This is not how he imagined his first kiss, and nothing in the last few weeks of living with Percival Graves has prepared him for it.

“You are my favorite thing,” Graves says after he steps back from Newt as if there has been no interruption in their conversation. “The Foe Glass, it’s just a thing.”

“But--” Newt chances a glance at his eyes, a flush working up Newt’s neck, his heart still attempting to climb out through his throat. “But it’s important--”

“You’re important to me,” Graves says, touching Newt’s chin and drawing his gaze up to his eyes. Heat warms Newt’s cheeks. When Graves looks at him like this, he feels so inexplicably naked. Graves’ declaration, too, has done nothing to curb his embarrassment.

“Mr. Graves--” 

“It’s Percival,” Graves says with the patience of a weary man having made this request several times already.

“Per-Percival,” Newt tries, and the name sounds awfully unfamiliar on his tongue. He squirms in his discomfort, but finally gets the words out. “I … I’m sorry.”

Graves heaves a sigh from the cellar of his belly. “Newt.”

Another silence wells up in the space between them. But Graves touches Newt’s cheek, and when he speaks again, his voice is soft -- as if trying to placate a wounded animal. “You are the only one who recognized that I wasn’t me. I’m obsessed with that thing because if you go,” and here, there is an uncharacteristic spike to his voice, “if you go, no one else will be able to …”

The sentence hangs, thrashing in its unfinished misery, but Newt understands. He has no idea how to voice his sympathy, so instead of using words, he leans in and brushes his lips to the place right below Graves’ ear. 

Graves has clearly not expected any affection, and Newt feels him stiffen slightly. 

Maybe words are needed after all. Pesky things. “I won’t go anywhere, will I?” Newt says with a fleeting smile. “I’m liking New York quite a bit.”

“Idiot,” Graves breathes fondly when he steps into Newt’s space again and kisses his forehead. 


End file.
